With my twenty dollars I went to Portsmouth, where
I speedily felt that I was among old and true friends.
I had not been there a day before I was called upon
to take care of a young man who was sick, and after
a few weeks charge of him I received in addition to
my board and expenses, three hundred dollars.
I was now enabled to clothe myself handsomely, and
I did so and went to Newburyport, where I remained
several weeks and made a great deal of money.

In the spring I went to White River Junction, and
while I was in the hotel taking a drink with some
friends, who should come into the bar-room but the
Lake Village tailor from whom I had borrowed the overcoat
which I had even then on my back. I was about
to thank him for his kindness to me when he took me
aside and said reproachfully:

“Doctor, you wore away my overcoat and this
is it, I think.”

“Good heavens! didn’t John Blaisdell pay
you for the coat? He told me he would; its little
enough out of what he owes me.”

“He never said a word to me about it,”
was the reply. I told the tailor the circumstances;
I did not like to let him to know that I had then
about seven hundred dollars in my pocket; I wished
to appear poor as long as there was a chance to collect
any of my Meredith and Lake Village bills; so I offered
him three dollars to take back the coat. He willingly
consented and that was the last of the “Blossom”
business with the Blaisdells.

I was bound not to leave this part of the country
without revisiting Windsor, and I went there, stopping
at the best house in the town, and, I fear, “putting
on airs” a little. I had suffered so much
in this place that I wanted to see if there was any
enjoyment to be had there. Satisfaction there
was, certainly-the satisfaction one feels in going
back under the most favorable circumstances, to a spot
where he has endured the very depths of misery.
After a good dinner I set out to visit the prison.
Here was the very spot in the street where, only a
few months before, I, a ragged beggar, had divided
my mere morsel of money with the poor woman from Rutland.
What change in my circumstances those few months had
wrought. I had recovered my health which bad
food, ill usage, and imprisonment had broken down,
and was in the best physical condition. The warden’s
old coat and pantaloons had been exchanged for the
finest clothes that money would buy. I had a
good gold watch and several hundred dollars in my
pocket. I had seen many of my old friends, and
knew that they were still my friends, and I was fully
restored to my old position. My three years’
imprisonment was only a blank in my existence; I had
begun life again and afresh, precisely where I left
off before I fell into the hands of the two Vermont
milliners.

All this was very pleasant to reflect upon; but do
not believe I thought even then, that the reason for
this change in my circumstances, and changes for the
better, was simply because I had minded my business
and had let women alone.